Hurt
by Rach shutup
Summary: Vlad/Danny. Danny takes comfort in Vlad's abuse. Oneshot, with two slightly different versions.
1. Hurt

He's here; I know he is. I can feel it. The shiver that runs down my spine is screaming at every nerve in my body; run, hide, escape while you still can. The cold feeling that is slowly creeping through my heart reminds me that being part ghost doesn't make me immortal, and that beneath the tough super-hero vigilante is a scared little child - a little child that is more than capable of joining the dead. These feelings contribute to my growing suspicions a long time before my ghost sense has even begun to kick in.

"Vlad," I mutter. Well, to be honest, it probably came out as more of a frightened whisper. My parents are sleeping a few doors down the hall and I can't risk waking them up, but I'd be lying to myself if I used that as an excuse. Then again, one little bump in the middle of the night and my father would be in here with some kind of anti-ghost bazooka ready to shoot down any and all ghost threats without second thought. Ironic, how he'd end up attacking his own son. It was better when they all knew my secret and I didn't have to hide, but they had to forget.

_It's better for everyone if they just forget._

But God, I miss the old days. I miss Casper High. Which is silly, I'm 18 now. Continuing my education would have only put my classmates in danger. I shouldn't let matters as trivial as nostalgia hold me back. I made my decision a long time ago. A life with regrets is waste of time.

I hear the sound of bulb exploding behind me, stripping me of my nerve and the last of the light that I was so desperately clinging to. As I spin round I make a point of 'Going-Ghost', and both mentally and physically prepare myself to be confronted by... nothing.

_He's toying with me. _

The old days sound really appealing to me right now. Back then, Vlad only bothered me when I got between him and whatever evil scheme he had cooked up. These days, it's because it's _fun._

I feel a cold, careful hand gently caress my cheek - a mimic of love.

It's moments like these that I realise how well and truly_ fucked up_ I am. Who wouldn't be?

He touches me like this and I like it. He hurts me and I like it more. He pushes me so far past my pain threshold that I pray for death. I need it, he knows it.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I must endure this, I must endure him. If I let him see even a flicker of fear then the game has been lost and _he _wins.

_So I'd better put on my game face. _

"Daniel! Good evening." He exclaims as though I've just walked in the room for a happy little surprise visit. If only. He's so close that I can feel his breath against my ear.

Suddenly, there's a sharp pain in my chest. I feel a warm liquid ooze its way down my body. The room is near silent. All I can hear is my own pathetic whimpering and the quiet 'plop' of blood on the floor. Vlad's stare is penetrating and merciless. In his right hand he is holding a knife, only the tip piercing my skin. The left trails an invisible line from my lower abdomen all the way up to the wound, before he licks the blood from the offending finger. Well, he does look like a vampire so it's not that surprising if he acts like one to, right?

He wraps the arm around my back and begins to slowly twist the knife deeper and deeper whilst holding my body firmly in place. I don't have the strength to escape or even move. I can't even scream. The pain is blinding and all I can do is cling to him and hope the pain stops soon. I throw my head back and claw at his chest. I have to restrain myself from letting out a strangled cry.

Death can't save me. That knife is of human origins and no mortal wound can kill me off. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll lose consciousness. Maybe if I'm _very_ lucky, I won't wake up to see two glaring red eyes.

He pulls the blade out. I can't move. I imagine this is what a ragdoll feels like. My body hangs limply over his arm and there's pretty much nothing I can do to free myself at this point. I feel dizzy, probably a result of the sudden blood loss. Or maybe my heart turned to jelly and wobbled it's way out of my chest.

I've had enough. I just want to go to bed. I want someone to cuddle up to me and hold me and keep me safe until I'm asleep. I want to wake up in the morning without a headache, without bloodstained sheets and a black eye. I don't want to fight anymore. I have nothing left to fight for. Since the peace treaty between the Ghost zone and the Human world, there's little need for Phantom. Sure, there are the odd rebels, Skulker and the government goons just to name a few, but the only real threat to peace is Vlad.

Another reason why things were better before everyone forgot. They knew that Vladimir Masters was the bad guy.

The wound is already starting to heal. I can feel the flesh stitching itself together, just like magic. Now's my chance. I spring to life and land a hard, solid punch to his jaw. I push myself away from him and clench my fists, ready to defend. A low pitched chuckle turns into a dark laughter.  
"I see you've got some fight in you tonight." Before I know what's happening, I'm pinned against the wall, his unnaturally strong hands clasped around my neck. It hurts to breath, I _can't_ breathe. "After last time, I honestly thought I'd broken you." He grips harder, slams me against the wall. Intimidation tactics.

_Intimidation tactics that worked. _

"Tell me boy, how does it feel to be utterly helpless?" He moves closer. I can feel his cold breath tickling my lips. Oh god, I think he's going to kiss me. I close my eyes, tight. Turn my head away from him. _Please don't. _Instead, he whispers darkly, seductively, sadistically."How does it feel to be _violated_?"

I let out an involuntary shudder.

He pulls away and with a simple flick of the wrist, I'm sent hurdling toward the bed. I wonder what he'll do tonight. Maybe he'll carve his name into my chest again. It's healed without a trace since last time, in his twisted mind that probably means loss of ownership, and Vlad likes to brand what is his.

_I'm his? _

He's the only one who'll ever see this side of me, the real me, the self-loathing masochistic nothing of a person that I have become.

He positions himself on top of me before I have the chance to recover, effectively trapping me. When did he get so fast? He brushes my hair out of my face. I wish he hadn't done that, I didn't want him to see those rare liquid crystals, but I couldn't stop one or two from trickling down my cheeks. Tears of a half-ghost must be worth a bob or two. I command my eyes to stop but they ignore me, how humiliating.

Without warning he presses his lips against mine. The kiss only lasts a few seconds but is bruising. I taste blood – my own blood. He tries to pull away but I shamelessly hold him close, bury my face in his shoulder and close my eyes._ Please don't leave me._ I'm shocked when he doesn't. Instead he adjusts himself and wraps his arms protectively around me, shielding me from the cruel world. Major Stockholm-syndrome, but at this point I don't care.

He's gone when I wake up.


	2. Original

He's here, I know he is. I can feel it. I can't ignore the shiver that runs down my spine and tells every nerve in my body to run or hide, to get my shit together and escape whilst I still can. An all-too-familiar cold feeling creeps through my heart and reminds me that being half ghost doesn't make me immortal, and that beneath the tough super-hero vigilante I'm utterly, hopelessly terrified. This is before my ghost sense has even thought about kicking in.

"Vlad," I mutter. Well, to be honest, it probably came out as a whisper. My Dad is sleeping a few doors down the hall and I can't risk waking him up. Trust me, one little bump in the night and my father will be in here with an anti-ghost bazooka ready to shoot his only son down like a dog. It was better when they all knew my secret, but they had to forget. It's better for everyone if they just _forget_. "I know you're in here."

Sometimes I allow myself to wonder what would happen if I just stayed in bed and pretended to be asleep. I wonder if he'd try to wake me up or if he'd decide that the whole thing was a lost cause and he'd just go away for a bit.

God, I miss the old days. I miss Casper High. Which is silly, I'm 18 now. I shouldn't let matters as trivial as nostalgia hold me back.

A lamp falls over behind me and scares the living day lights out of m. As I spin round I 'Go-Ghost' and get ready to protect myself only to be confronted by... nothing. He's toying with me. The old days sound _really_ appealing right now. Back then, Vlad only bothered me when I got between him and whatever evil plot he has cooked up. These days he just does it because it's fun. He's cruel for the sake of being cruel, which makes me feel sick to the stomach.

I feel a cold, gentle hand stroke my cheek almost lovingly.

I enjoy it. It's disgusting and embarrassing. I've had feelings for him since I was fourteen years old, and I'm pretty sure that he knows it.

It's moments like these that I realise how well and truly messed up in the head I am. Who wouldn't be? Since I got my ghost powers, I've done a fantastic job of lying through my teeth, pushing away those I most care about and generally hurting anyone and everyone I come into contact with, probably even him. He touches me like this and I like it. He hurts me. He pushes me so far past my pain threshold that I pray for death and I need it and he knows it.

I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I must endure this, I must endure him. If I let him see even a flicker of fear then he wins.

_I'm terrified. _

"Daniel! Good evening." He exclaims in a whisper as though I've just walked in the room for a happy little flying visit. If only. He's so close that I can feel his breath tickling my ear.

Suddenly, there's a sharp pain in my chest. I feel warm liquid ooze its way down my body. Vlad is no longer invisible, oh no. In the right hand he's holding a knife, only the tip piercing my skin. The left trails an invisible line from my lower abdomen all the way up to the wound, before he licks the blood from the offending finger. Well, he does look like a vampire so it's not that surprising if he acts like one too, right?

He wraps the arm around my back and begins to slowly twist the knife deeper and deeper whilst holding my body firmly in place. I don't have the strength to escape or even move. I can't even scream. The pain is blinding and all I can do is cling to him and hope the pain stops soon. I throw my head back and claw at his chest. I let out a strangled whimper.

Death can't save me. No mortal wound can kill me off. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll lose consciousness. Maybe if I'm _very_ lucky, I won't wake up to see two glaring red eyes. Or maybe I will. Maybe _that's_ what I want.

He pulls the blade out and it _hurts_. I can't move. I imagine this is what a ragdoll feels like. My body hangs limply over his arm and there's pretty much nothing I can do to save myself at this point. I could waste my time fighting back, but I'm spent. I've been fighting all day, I'm tired. Besides, blood loss is very draining, even for a half ghost. With any luck I'll get some sleep tonight.

But the wound is already starting to heal. I can feel the flesh stitching itself together, just like magic.

I've had enough. I just want to go to bed. I want someone to cuddle up to me and hold me and keep me safe until I'm asleep. I want to wake up in the morning without a headache, without bloodstained sheets and a black eye. I don't want to fight anymore. _I have nothing left to fight for_. My dad can protect himself and my mother and friends are _dead._ The person I'm in love with hurts me more than anyone else has ever hurt me in my_ life _and I need it. I need to feel the pain; I need it because of all the people who have died as a direct result of the actions I myself have taken.

He picks me up and carries me to my bed. I wonder what he'll do tonight. Maybe we'll have vicious, violent sex that will leave me aching for days on end. Maybe he'll carve his name into my chest again. It's healed without a trace since last time, and Vlad likes to brand what is his.

_I'm his. _

He's the only one who'll ever see this side of me, the real me, the self-loathing masochistic nothing of a person that I have become. I hate myself.

He puts me on the bed and strokes the hair out of my eyes. I wish he hadn't done that, I didn't want him to see me cry, but today has been a particularly hard day. Today, I'm hurting more than I hurt on other days and I have no idea why. He lies next to me and wraps me in his arms. It feels nice. The tenderness of it is breath taking, he's rarely ever this gentle with me, but I cherish the moments during which he is.

"I hate you..." He begins. He presses his lips against mine. The kiss only lasts a few seconds and is bruising. I taste blood – my own blood. He pulls away and I shamelessly rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "... but I love you more."

He was gone when I woke up the next morning, and it leaves me wondering when he'll be back to hurt me again.


End file.
